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I wondered sometimes if Chris and Mike would still be friends if they’d met as adults. I didn’t think so. I couldn’t imagine the common ground they’d exist on outside of their past.

But I was glad they were friends. I think Chris was good for Mike.

I hoped it went the other way too.

24

CHRIS

We found the cat in the library. Larissa was sitting on the floor petting it. I left her there to go find her something to eat.

The plan to leave early to get food had turned into Mike showing no signs of leaving the tiki bar.

I found the caterer in the kitchen and asked if there was anything safe for Larissa. He said the pulled pork only had seasoned salt on it and their Hawaiian rolls were from a nut-free bakery. He found an unopened bag, then made some fresh coleslaw without the cashews. He added extra pineapple for the chocolate fountain that was uncontaminated. I found a can of soda, grabbed the food, and went back to the library.

“I got you something to eat,” I said.

She blinked at the plate from the spot on the floor, where she sat petting the cat. “Where?”

“Ran into the chef, told him about the allergy. It’s all safe.”

I watched her face transform. “Thank you,” she breathed.

I checked her EpiPen while she grabbed her food and took a bite of the sandwich. She closed her eyes while she chewed. “Oh, wow,” she whispered. “I was so hungry.”

My jaw ticked.

Larissa was great about planning around her allergy, but she didn’t know the Maddoxes. She couldn’t text Joy and ask about the menu. But Mike could—and he didn’t.

I watched her eat like she was starving.

I knew her. It was Saturday, so she started at 6:00 a.m. and waited on tables until two. She probably did delivery orders or her secret shopper stuff until the last minute, then ran home, got ready, and came without eating. She might have snacked or had breadsticks in her purse and a banana or something, but she was hungry.

I tried to force down how I felt about this by pretending I needed to look at her EpiPen for longer than was humanly necessary. After I handed it back to her, I went to look at the bookshelves while she finished her plate just to give myself more time to recover.

Greg and Joy had a very nice house. A very nice everything, actually. The place was a palace. We could get lost in here and no one would find us, which I was hoping for.

I’d gotten the sense Larissa needed a little break. Mike was buzzed, and she looked overstimulated and exasperated that he was being so loud. I didn’t blame her a bit. Mike was always like that when he drank too much. Like a dial that got turned all the way up before he shorted out entirely. I had far too much experience with this.

Mike had a meltdown for three solid months after his high school injury. He would drink until he passed out, got a DUI on prom night right before he turned eighteen. He’d straightened out after that. It had been well over a decade, but it’s not really something you forget.

After everything that happened at the end of senior year, working for Tony was the best-case scenario. His stepdad was a good guy and he looked out for him and kept him out of trouble when the rest of us weren’t there to help.

That had been my biggest fear going off to university—not being there to make sure Mike did okay. But he did. He worked those first few years, putting in the hours for his master plumber license and whether he liked to admit it or not, he was great at it. He was capable of a lot more than he gave himself credit for. Mike was good with people. You can’t teach that. His coworkers liked him, the rest of Tony’s crew respected him, and he was a good front person for the business.

I just wish he wanted the plumber thing. Or anything for that matter.

I pulled a first edition of Love Shows Up off the shelf and walked it across the room.

Larissa was sitting on the Oriental rug over by the fireplace, eating the last of the pineapple.

“Look at this,” I said, crouching to show it to her.

“By Joy Maddox,” she said, reading the cover. “Have you read it?”

“Yeah. It’s good. I can loan you my copy.”

“Okay, cool. Thanks for the food,” she said, setting her empty plate aside. “It was beef-stick-in-the-woods good.”